


Shrike

by Kicchin



Series: The Shrike [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi can draw, Akashi needs a hug, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Emperor Akashi Seijuurou, Furihata is bad at remembering history, Historical Inaccuracy, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Im still shipping and writing for these two, M/M, MDZS inspired, Museums, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Past Character Death, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Sad with a Happy Ending, Soulmate kind of, akafuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 19:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20801468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kicchin/pseuds/Kicchin
Summary: Furihata Kouki goes to an exhibit for his history assignment when his eyes captured a sight of a collection of illustrations. Thankfully, a stranger from the gallery offers help in understanding the story behind the illustrations, a griping tale blurred through the years and layered by myths. But why does this man seems awfully familiar?





	Shrike

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys! So life had been quite busy for a while due to my graduate school and some personal matters here and there. Its been years since I first published Monogatari here and in FF.net, which was officially my first KnB fanfic. Until now I am grateful to everyone who are following me and these stories since the beginning. Without you guys I wouldn't be where I am today. I would have given up with writing narratives and yeah.  
So yeah, this fic is my small token of thanks to every single one you here. Everyone who had left a kudos, a comment, bookmarked and subscribed to all my works. Thank you so much. I would love to make a special mention to the Akafuri fandom because this is where I found my passion in writing romance and stuff. Thank you! 
> 
> This fic is a bit late for my anniversary but I do hope that you guys do like it anyways. Please let me know what you think of it on the comments, or leave a kudos, or both ahahahahaha!  
This work is slightly inspired by MDZS and the song by Hozier; Shrike. I recommend for you guys to listen to it, I found it by accident and I've been listening to it while I was writing this.

** _"I couldn't utter my love when it counted..._ **

** _I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted..._ **

** _...Remember me love, when I am reborn,_ **

** _As a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn..."_ **

* * *

Furihata Kouki sighs as he stares at his notebook, today is Friday and he should be _very_ glad because tomorrow is weekend and their basketball team’s coach had left them off practice because the hoop in their gym _had_ to be repaired but _no._ No he isn’t enjoying his Friday yet. Their new history teacher had assigned them to work on _something_ which by that he means asking them to go to museums and find a unique artefact or art that tells them a particular interesting fact or story. Truthfully, Furihata isn’t the biggest fans of history, he’s bad at dates and names. Although he is fascinated by the stories behind some historical events, he isn’t particularly thrilled to be forced to remember every single name of people, places, or dates involved.

He’s been walking around this small exhibit he found from a lady giving out flyers by the station. He remembers the lady almost ripping his arm off when she found him and invited him to see the exhibit. Although she is pretty with her long pink hair and youthful smile, she can be quite persuasive which reminds him very much of his basketball coach. He looks up from his notebook to the displays, there aren’t much of visitors and if he would be very honest, he feels quite out of place here clad in his high school uniform while everyone else wore beautiful dresses and expensive looking suits.

Is he even supposed to be here?

He shakes his head, ah no, this is free anyways and no one had asked him to leave yet so he should be good. He approaches a vase displayed, it is a white jade vase with images of flowers carved in its body. He reads the plaque underneath the pedestal where it stands, a jade vase from the Ming Dynasty it says. He wasn’t sure much about that one so he moves on from a display to another until he finds himself stopping finally at one.

The collection hangs up on a wall, four pieces of paper framed in glass. Although old they are obviously well taken care of with barely any crease. The first of the four is a painting of a scenery of what appears to be a mountain range, the second a scenery of a small garden with a crane pecking on the ground. The third picture for some reason manages to capture Furihata’s interest, it is an image of a figure crouched on the same garden on the second picture seemingly picking flowers. The fourth picture is an illustration of the figure whose face is obscured from the view with a flock of white bird.

Underneath the display he reads the plaque.

_Illustrations by Immortal Emperor of the Teiko Dynasty._

_The Shrike._

That’s odd, Furihata thinks to himself. Unlike other displays this one has quite a vague description. The collection has a name and the name of its creator yet little seems to reveal about the it. The title doesn’t seem quite telling as well, _The Shrike_, as far as he can remember a shrike is a bird and although there are indeed birds in the illustrations none of them appears to be a shrike.

Furihata stares and tries to understand it as much as he can, the yellowing pages and the black ink gives one the sense of nostalgia, the brush strokes clean and careful. However the more he looks at them he realizes something odd about each of them. The first illustration is quite, serene and almost typical. It is almost like staring at a well-practiced routine, a melody that had been known for years and had been played over and over. It is polished and well made. The second one though had this same sense of typicality as the first, the image of the crane seems to be an added touch, as if it wasn’t truly there when it was painted, a figure added later on. The third is almost different from the first, a figure bending on the garden, a silhouette instead of a full figure which is what would often be the case in illustrations in this age. The last with the birds covering the figure almost feels strangely sad as if telling that the figure now is obscured, as if there is an impossible distance between the figure and illustrator.

From a realistic to a metaphor, Furihata thinks.

Without thinking twice, he clicks the pen in his hand and begins to note, he writes Shrike on the paper and a question mark. He tries to understand why such collection was named after such a vicious animal.

“It is not always I find anyone in this part of the gallery.”

Furihata almost shrieks in surprise as he hears a voice. He turns and finds a man standing next to him. His surprise quickly morphs to awe at the sight. The stranger stood no taller than a few inches to his height yet his presence felt bigger and almost intimidating. His scarlet eyes are bright and luscious like pools made of blood oranges. His skin is unblemished and white as porcelain and his lips are the most beautiful shade of natural pink he had seen.

“I’m sorry for startling you.” he says as to Furihata. “I was quite happy to see someone here. These displays aren’t very popular after all.”

Furihata blinks his awe and turn to the collections. That’s odd.

“That’s weird, they’re the prettiest ones in this place.” He finds himself saying without thinking. He catches himself too late and he turns to look at the man in front of him in horror. “I-I mean no disrespect to the other exhibited items!”

The man with red hair and eyes chuckles. Furihata doesn’t know what he found funny about it but he prays his laughter meant well.

“Akashi Seijuuro.” The man introduces himself before handing Furihata his calling card.

Furihata bows his head meekly before accepting the card. He reads it briefly and his eyes widen as he found the man’s series of titles. CEO of the Rakuzan Incorporated, which is one of the oldest and biggest known corporation in Japan, it holds almost half if not more, of several shares and stocks of different businesses in the country. He is also apparently the director and owner of this exhibit which is surprising since he look no older than Furihata himself.

The brunet bows his head.

“I-I’m sorry if I have uhm said anything to disrespect you!”

The man chuckles once more and waves a hand of dismissal.

“Don’t hold out in my account.” He says. “I appreciate honest opinions.”

Furihata doesn’t know about that. Sometimes lying can save someone’s life after all.

“Now tell me, is there anything you want to know about this one?” Akashi asks.

“Oh…Uhm…well, I don’t even know where to begin.” Furihata admits. “It gives me mixed feelings. The first illustration is beautiful but…the others…the rest I feel more about them.”

“You have quite the eyes for art.”

“Huh?”

“Art are not meant to be beautiful. They are meant to make one feel _something_.” Akashi tells him with a small smile.

“But I still don’t think I understand what the illustrator feels.”

“Do you?”

Furihata blinks at the question. The man, Akashi Seijuuro looks back at the illustration, something in his scarlet eyes flicker but Furihata misses them. Furihata looks up to the illustrations in ink, what does he feel about these illustrations? He looks at them quietly, eyes following every strokes of the brush that builds the images and somehow…somehow he feels _sadder_ each picture. The third illustration felt like it was drawn during spring with the sun shining above and the flowers blooming, there is a sense of a quiet joy kept between the ink and the paper. And the fourth felt like an illusion, a dream more than a memory. There seems like something that should be explicitly drawn, a face or a figure yet it wasn’t, it was obscured—like words never said, deeds never done.

“It’s…sad.”

Akashi nods, his eyes shifts from Furihata to the illustrations. For a moment there was nothing but silence between them.

“The Immortal Emperor of Teiko Dynasty, wasn’t he…a myth?” Furihata asks.

The brunet remembers the tales he used to read when he was young, some of them told stories of great leaders and one of them was the wise Emperor of a the Dynasty of Teiko. Although second born son of the Heavenly Emperor before him, he was the wisest and most gifted out of all his siblings. He rose to lead a great empire and vanquished evil with justice, truth and a clean conscience. The heavens who had seen his good deeds bestowed him the gift of immortality.

The red haired man nods with a small smile playing on his lips.

“Didn’t they say, there is often some grain of truth in some tales?” he replies. “The Immortal Emperor was the second son of an Emperor, his first born brother left the crown to him when the first prince married a commoner. He was the young…and perhaps still naïve despite the praises that people sung about him.”

Furihata blinks. Oh, that he didn’t know.

“They said the figure he drew here was the Great Defector.”

Furihata’s eyes widen, a traitor? The Emperor whose tales of good deeds made him into a myth, a symbol of righteousness, drew a traitor?

“In some tales they and versions of the Immortal Emperor’s myth they portrayed the Great Defector as dragon that the Immortal Emperor vanquished before he was granted immortality. In truth, the Great Defector was a man.” Akashi says making Furihata hum in remembrance.

The brunet knows that, in some children’s books and tales, before the Immortal Emperor was granted immortality, he defeated a dragon which scorched castles and fortresses with fire that were drawn from the depths of the underworld, fires that burnt despite the lack of light.

“Why would he draw someone who had betrayed him? His arch nemesis?” Furihata asks looking back at the third illustration. The work doesn’t seem like a picture you would portray someone you would sought to defeat, someone you hate.

“They said he never hated him.” Akashi says in a quiet voice.

“But didn’t he kill him?”

Furihata’s eyes widen when he sees the man’s eyes darkens, his slack hands clenching to a fist in his side. Had he said anything to offend him? The brunet opens his mouth to apologize but the man beats him to it.

“I do not know when such thing became blurred through the years but the Immortal Emperor never did, he could…he can never.” Akashi tells him with a strange tone. Furihata purses his lips, ah he should really had learned and listened more to his history classes. “Ah, but…perhaps it was the Immortal Emperor’s fault anyways.”

“Why is that?”

“He never…he never said and stopped people from thinking that way either.” The man replies. “Did you know what the Great Defector did to have earned such name?”

Furihata shakes his head, although he is familiar with the myth, the history behind it is unfamiliar. The man smiles at him understandingly.

“It’s never been quite a popular story.” Akashi mutters almost to himself before continuing. “The Great Defector left the side of the crown when it tolerated its allies when they massacred a whole village where the enemies of the crown came from.”

Furihata’s eyes widen, this is massively different from what he is written in books.

“The Great Defector turned his back from the crown and attempted to rescue relatives and other scattered members of that village. He sold his belongings and the Emperor’s gifts to him and he built a small shelter on top of a burial hill for these people, away from anyone’s prying eyes until one of the Emperor’s Knights found out. Without the Emperor’s knowledge the Knight purged the village, children, and elderly…everyone that was in that hill that night were killed and set on fire. The Great Defector after having known of this gathered the remaining of these people and charged to the palace, they were few but the Great Defector knew the palace well, he was wise but still…”

“Then what happened to him?”

“His people were killed one by one but he fought bravely. He fought even if the Immortal Emperor begged him to stop. Perhaps he thought death would be better than living in such an unjust world. He…He killed himself by jumping off to the cliff on the surrounding the palace.”

Furihata stares, he is lost for word and yet…yet somehow he understood. His heart clenches picturing such scene in his mind, a man torn between his loyalty and his virtues. Was he right to have protected those people, was he wrong to have left his fidelity to the crown?

“I wonder…if the Immortal Emperor believed that he was really a traitor.” Furihata asks.

“What do _you_ think?” Akashi asks him.

“Hm?” Furihata asks tilting his head to the side. “Uh, I wouldn’t know…uhm, I just…I mean with everything I just can’t help but wonder. People must have said things to the Emperor, they were away from each other and…the things he did, the names they called him, I just makes me wonder if the Emperor ever believed them or…”

“Or?”

Furihata shrugs. He had been always a helpless romantic, he knows he shouldn’t be thinking such but he can’t help it. Somehow he hopes that the Emperor didn’t believe what other said about _that_ man. He hoped somehow there was one person who saw through his reasons.

“He didn’t.”

Furihata turns to look at Akashi when the man answers. There was something firm about those words that Furihata feels it captures him both physically and emotionally. It was the most certain word he had ever heard from his companion.

“He never doubted him, not even when he left his side.” Akashi adds. “He had known him through many springs, summers, falls and winters. He knew his heart _best_ and perhaps it was why he begged him to stop. It was selfish but he asked anyways in hope…in hope he’d see he was not alone that the Emperor believed him.”

“But he was ridden in grief.” Furihata says finding himself relating to the Great Defector for some reason.

If he was at such situation who would know if he could still have enough pieces of his heart to feel after losing so much. When one had stripped himself of his title, abandoned his place, only to lose those people he tried so hard to protect, those remaining people who believed in his kindness, who can say what they could do? His heart clenches at the thought, his eyes feel warm and damp at the image conjured in his mind.

“It’s sad.” Furihata mutters again as he looks down on his notebook. “And the Emperor…he had to live with that?”

Akashi nods.

“They said after the siege the Emperor was criticized for his actions seemingly favouring the Great Defector and he was forced to repent for years in seclusion. Some said he died during then and some tales said the heavens felt pity for him and granted him immortality, then, he left his crown and worldly possession to wander the world forever.” Akashi replies. “He suffered the pain he suffered. He longed the days that had gone. He regretted the words that he should had shouted but he couldn’t even whisper.”

Furihata couldn’t help but turn his eyes towards the man, his voice felt loud and clear in the silence of the gallery. It echoes through the cavities of his lungs and to the chambers of his heart. It resounds and grips him. His scarlet eyes shift from the illustrations from the wall towards Furihata and there is something that blooms in them just like how the sun would spring from the horizon slow and steady at the break of dawn.

It is beautiful, Furihata thought, it is bright that he had to look somewhere else, anywhere to form the words in his mind.

“If he had not died, if he really did become immortal wouldn’t that be sad? He would be alone.”

Akashi chuckles and this time Furihata feels compelled to look. Once the brunet’s brown eyes met the man’s scarlet ones they were held in place by his soft gaze. He could almost feel the warmth spreading in his body, it felt familiar, like he had felt his hands once in his cheeks, his breath in his lips.

“I thought so too.” he answers. “But millennia of waiting felt nothing when the day he meets _him_ once more.”

Furihata stares, the words shouldn’t be directed to him and yet…

Why does this seem…

Like they’ve met before?

“W-What…did you say uhm…did they say they the name of the Great Defector was?” Furihata asks.

“His last name was not known, but his name, they said the Emperor called him Kouki.”

Furihata blinks.

“…That’s…uh…well its just, my name is Kouki too.”

The man nods, his smile and gaze unwavering. He takes a step forward.

“What a coincidence, the Emperor was named Seijuuro as well.”


End file.
